OK. My rant is over.
On to the worst Thanksgiving ever. It happened to me about five years ago and I will never forget it. I changed the names of the guilty, of course, but here it is as I saw it. If anyone reading this was there on that terrible day, I would like to extend a big FUCK YOU to you and yours this Holiday season.
It was the day before Thanksgiving and I got fired. It was no big deal because I really hated the job, but the holidays were coming and here was yet another year I couldn’t buy anyone anything. Even my ice-cold brick of a heart felt something about that. So, I decided for Thanksgiving to do what I normally do the day after I get fired. I would order a pizza, drink a bottle of wine and watch a Police Academy Marathon. I’m not going to let some stupid holiday spoil my big plans. But I forgot the week before I promised a now former friend, Melissa that I would go to with her and her now husband (Mike) to Laguna Beach for turkey day. I got a call from her and I told her my situation and state. Being the type of person she is, she totally guilt tripped me into going. Having no regard for my firing or my feelings, she copped the usual attitude. It was all about her. It was always about her. She screams into the phone, “Mike and his family are expecting you. They made extra food and everyone is so excited about you being there! If you don’t come I will never speak to you again. Blah..Blah…CUNT” I think at the age I am now, I would have told her to go fuck herself. I wish I had.
I had a few drinks before she arrived so I could sleep in the car and not have to talk about anything. They picked me up and I feel fast asleep. We arrive at her mother’s house in what felt like ten minutes, which was really a joy. Her mother was having one of her hissy fits because she had just had another plastic surgery procedure and was in no mood to entertain anyone. She wasn’t even in the least bit happy to see her daughter. I just wanted to sleep. I wasn’t being mean or angry, I just realized this entire thing was a bad idea already. Thanksgiving was the next day so I made a bed on the couch and fell asleep again.
In my usual manner of making myself at home in a strangers house, I woke up , went into the kitchen and decided to make something to eat. The only thing in her fridge was a tomato and some fat free milk. “Great” I thought to myself. I was used to coming back to a paternal figures home with an opulent spread of tasty goodies for the morning. Something like eggs, bacon, toast…the works. I mean, this is what Momma Heels does. I guess we are not all so lucky. This “mother” could not be burdened with such niceties and I was starving. Mike and Melissa make their way out of her bedroom to meet me. It was already time to go to his parent’s house for the feast and I couldn’t wait. My stomach was growling and the dinner I consumed of scotch on the rocks the night before was not cutting the mustard with the morning dew.
On the way there, Mike was singing to some tune on the radio. “Can you shut the fuck up, Mike you sound retarded.” Melissa growled. All of a sudden I felt a taste of vomit going into my mouth, not because of the hangover either. “Melissa, please don’t talk to him in that way around me. It’s quite rude.” Before she could rebuff my remark the phone rings. His mother. She answers and tells her that I’m with them. “Mom. Her name is Hellin. I told you she was coming. Remember? Well, make a place for her. Is it really that much of a bother?” Great. They forgot I was even coming, if they even knew at all. When we arrive the mother, and I forget her name so I will call her, Elmira (Wizard of Oz reference right here) chirps to me, “Wow it’s so nice having strangers in the house for Thanksgiving!” I cringed and proceeded into the kitchen. Melissa ignored me and tried to help cook. This is one of the many ways Melissa took after her mother. She knows her way around a kitchen about as much as Lance Bass knows his way around a vagina. Mike’s sisters were in the kitchen staring at me. No conversation, just looks. It was like I was this foreign being that appeared and they were inspecting me, like a ghost, a demon or a black person. I got sweaty, not because of the shakes from lack of booze, because this was one of the strangest situations I have ever been in and it feel really awful. I asked, “Is there are liquor cabinet?” If I’m going to feel uncomfortable, I will make everyone else feel that way too. This was going to be a good one.
I make my way to get my fix and there stands an older Swiss man who I will call, Frank (Wizard of Oz reference right here). I ask him to pour me a drink and he gives me a glass of wine even though I saw a very expensive bottle of port I asked for. He declined and told me port was for after the meal. As I slurped down the wine I thought, I hope I can make it to the port. Then before I could smell the sweet smell of cigarette on his breath, Andy, Mike’s brother arrives.
Andy was a fellow smoker and a safe heaven. We talked about how he just came back from spending time in Korea and looking for a job in the states. As we drank and smoked, we lost track of time and realized it was time to eat. Melissa’s botoxed mother arrived with Mellissa’s self-indulgent brother, Zeke. I think momma botox wanted me to get chummy with her son but I was having none of that. I was drunk, already irritated and to fan the flames, he started talking about how he loves George Bush. In front of everyone I go into a tirade about how George Bush is an animal and we are fighting a losing war and how Zeke is just a spoiled rich brat. This was going from bad to worse at lightning speed. And to top it off, Mikes elderly aunts and uncles were here from Switzerland and I kept begging them to play Twister even though they couldn’t speak English and they didn’t even have a game of Twister. Andy distracts me with a cigarette that he dangles in front of my face. We go to the back yard and before I can pucker my numb lips, we are in a full on making out session. As I look up from my game of tonsil hockey, I see Elmira watching. She wasn’t pleased to say the least. Not only am I the drunk that ruined Thanksgiving, I’m tart with my hands all over her son.
I really don’t remember leaving but I do remember getting a raft of shit from Melissa about my behavior the next morning. To my delight, Andy was heading back to Los Angeles and I could catch a ride. Thank god. I checked the fridge again but all I got was some false hope. We head back to Mikes parents house and everyone was starring again and I was feeling like a pig shit in my head, I couldn’t leave fast enough. Elvira made some snarky comment about how much fun I had the night before. I just rolled my eyes. But I was thinking sodomy with a rusty nail would have been a better experience and I would have embraced the tetanus.
Andy smokes like a chimney on the way home in his teal Dodge Dart. I begged him to turn off the heater because it felt like the car was going to explode with it on. I held my breath until we got to Los Angeles, which was no small feat. Even though I smoked, I hated smelling it when I was hungover. Upon my arrival, Andy asked if I wanted to get together that night. I politely declined and declined further advances in their entirety and never heard from him again.
As for Melissa she called when she got back and demanded an apology. I just hung up the phone and deleted her from the palm pilot. Good Riddance!
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